Although he wanted to, the rational mind of the knowledgeable youth made him retreat again, pressing tightly against the headboard behind him, and Violet Zimmerman's hand, hanging with the red cloth, also fell short.
Joseph Lancaster lowered his eyes, his furrowed brows appearing conflicted.
"You should go back, I won't tell big brother."
The meatball was still in his mouth, bulging, giving off a childish impression.
"But what should we do? Your big brother knows."
Violet Zimmerman's voice echoed again, still ethereal, the curve of her lips was poignant, her apricot eyes were obviously misty, staring at her nephew's face, as if looking through him at something else.
Joseph Lancaster...
Suddenly raised his Phoenix-like eyes, furrowing his brows deeper, "Big brother knows?"
"Yes, it's your big brother who told me to bring you alcohol fermented meatballs,"
